


War is Over

by vala (valinorean)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU from HBP, Drama, M/M, Pre-Slash, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valinorean/pseuds/vala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war ended years ago, but some people are still living in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: wendypops  
> Written for Smoochfest 2011

My hands are cold again.

It’s ridiculous how a biting chill would seep into the bones of my fingers even in the middle of summer. The brief sun shower that cooled the warm weather earlier left wet patches in the dense forest undergrowth, but it’s still warm enough that I feel absurd wishing for a pair of snug gloves.

I find a spot of dry ground and lay down the firewood and kindling I’ve been carrying. The damn rain soaked all the firewood near the clearing earlier, forcing me to go deeper into the forest where the canopy is denser just to find dry ones. I run a hand through my hair, absently thinking of how it’s in need of another trim. Maybe Pansy could help me out later.

Beyond the dense foliage lies the clearing that leads to the place I have grown to call home these days. I’ve been living here for so long that the life I used to have back at the Manor feels like a dream. I’m not looking forward to going back, though. This is infinitely better than living under the same roof as the Dark Lord.

I blow a puff of warm breath onto my cupped hands before rubbing them together, trying to create friction. It’s useless, I know, but I do it anyway. It’s been like this for so many years that I’m almost used to it. Only the scorching heat of an open fire could lessen the cold that has settled deep in the bones. My hands have never been the same ever since that day.

  
 _ _A sharp knock on the door halts my stilted conversation with him.__  
 _  
A shimmer of magic passes over the doorknob before it turns, and the door opens to reveal the foreboding figure of the Potions Professor. I curse under my breath at the intrusion. The locking charm I placed on the door was the strongest I know, one that I learned from Father’s books and borders on Dark Magic. Yet the way Snape disarmed it, you’d think it was a simple charm done by a First-year._  
 _  
“Mr Malfoy, I need a moment with you,” Snape says._  
 _  
More than slightly annoyed at Snape’s awful timing, I hesitate. I don’t want to drop my conversation with him, but I can’t ignore the urgency in Snape’s voice and he’s already starting to back away._  
 _  
I grab his wrist before he can move further away from me. “We’ll talk later,” I say. It isn’t a request._  
 _  
He meets my eyes and nods minutely. I let out a sigh of regret before turning towards the door being held open for me. For a brief moment, he and Snape stare at each other and I can almost hear the silent conversation passing between them. When I reach the door, I look back one last time before reluctantly stepping out of the room._  
 _  
“What is it, Professor?” I ask as soon as the door closes behind us, hoping the conversation will be quick._  
 _  
Snape motions to a nearby alcove then draws his wand to cast a_ Muffliato _around us, before returning it within the folds of his robe._  
 _“Draco,” he begins ominously, and I can’t help but swallow nervously._  
 _  
Throughout my entire stay in Hogwarts, my godfather has only ever used my first name twice. The first was in second year when Mother was taken to St. Mungo’s because of a magical malady. She was there for nearly a month. The other was during fourth year when he confirmed that Voldemort had indeed returned and warned me that my family would be in grave danger because of Father’s involvement._  
 _  
And with everything that happened during the previous summer, I fear what his next words will be._  
 _  
“You no doubt know of my Unbreakable Vow with your mother,” Snape continues._  
 _  
I nod._  
 _  
“I promised to protect you from harm, and I am about to fulfil that promise now,” Snape says. “The task the Dark Lord gave you is far too great for any man, let alone a child. He hopes that you will fail and he will have no choice but to kill you. This is the punishment he intends for Lucius.”_  
 _  
“But—”_  
 _  
“Listen to me,” Snape says, laying both his hands on my shoulders. “You will fail in your task, do not doubt it. His Lordship himself asked me to make sure that you do. But I have made no unbreakable pact with him on the matter of your life.”_  
 _  
My breath catches at Snape’s admission. I let my eyes close and I stagger against the cold wall behind me, trying to comprehend the implication of Snape’s words._  
 _  
“Then... then what am I supposed to do?”_  
 _  
“Give me your wand and hold out your hand,” Snape instructs, his tone unusually kind. My heart begins to beat twice as fast._  
 _  
He places a golden coin the size of a galleon on the palm of my hand. It feels cool to the touch and I turn it in my hand, examining it. Unlike a galleon, the coin is plain and free of any mark, save for a small, stylised S scratched on the middle of one face._  
 _  
He gently folds my fingers around the coin and closes his fist tightly around mine. He whispers an incantation that I can’t understand, and suddenly the coin begins to heat. I look up at him, wide-eyed and confused, when I realise what he has turned it into._  
 _  
“Forgive me, Draco.” Snape’s voice cracks when he says the words. I’ve never seen him like this before._  
 _  
Snape suddenly pulls me in a fierce hug for half a heartbeat before quickly stepping back and away from me. Fear begins to claw at my chest but I stay where I am. If there’s one thing I know, it’s to have absolute trust in my godfather._  
 _  
The golden coin’s heat increases threefold and I clutch it tightly to my chest. My mind races, trying to recall everything I’m about to leave behind—my favourite photograph of Mother, the latest Quidditch magazine I’ve only leafed through once, my friends and how they’ll miss me at dinner tonight, and even my unfinished homework. I’ll be leaving them all behind as any moment now, the Portkey will take me somewhere Snape deems safe. But I suddenly remember something important._  
 _  
“Wait! What about the other condition of the Vow?”_  
 _  
Snape’s face hardens and he replies, “I will take care of it.”_  
 _  
The last thing I see is the world-weary face of my godfather before the Portkey yanks me far, far away._

  
The Portkey landed me inside a sparsely furnished wizarding tent. It contained a camp bed in one corner, a small kitchenette across from it on the other side, a small cupboard with supplies such as food, clothes, blankets, and a few books near the entrance, and a small table with two rickety chairs on opposite sides.

There was a letter from Snape carefully placed on the centre of the table. It told me everything I needed to know—that he had sent me here to hide until the war is over or a safer place is found, whichever comes first, that he took my wand so my magical signature would be untraceable, that the wards will repel all Muggles and most wizards, and that I would be safe as long as I do not venture outside.

He also told me that he would come and get me when the time is right.

I went outside the tent after reading Snape’s letter and found that it was situated inside a cave. It was shallow, with a few small holes in the ceiling that allowed a bit of light to filter in. I found the wards he was referring to at the entrance of the cave. The entrance was low enough that I would need to duck half a foot when passing so as not to hit my head. Not that I planned on venturing outside at the time.

What made me laugh then was the portable toilet I saw sitting outside the tent, charmed with magic to maintain cleanliness at all times. Snape had obviously thought of everything. I wondered if he had ever used the cave as a hideout. With all his dealings with both sides, it’s no surprise that he would need such a place.

That was nearly five years ago.

The first few months of exile nearly drove me insane. I read all of Snape’s books at least five times each before I began reciting passages about magical theories from my head. The daily tasks were routine and mechanical—eat, drink, clean up, go to bed. I would check the wards daily, but without a proper wand, I couldn’t be sure if what I was hearing was the hum of magic vibrating with power or the natural sound of the forest outside.

With nothing to do but wait, the days bled into weeks, and the weeks into months. I did nothing but the most basic of functions that my body needed. I drifted between sleep and awareness, often not knowing what time of the day it was until I left the tent and ventured out to the entrance to check the wards.

It was the only thing that kept me from descending into madness. The slight feel of magic tingling on my skin was the closest thing I had to having a companion in my exile—a ward that was alive with magic.

By the end of the second month, I was able to attune myself to the wards around the cave. I knew exactly where it was, when it was actively warding against living creatures, and I could even distinguish the different hums it makes as it strengthens and weakens for reasons I could not fathom.

I slowly grew thin and my cheeks became hollow as the days wore on. When I looked in a mirror, a wraith-like creature with hooded eyes would stare back at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I used my voice. I confined myself to lying on the bed for long periods, and I felt my spirit begin to fade. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would lie on my bed and not wake.

And then one day, Vince and Greg tumbled into the tent.

When they first appeared, I didn’t bother getting up. I just stared at them from my position on the bed, trying to figure out if I was dreaming of home or if I was hallucinating again. I though it was from the tin of mushrooms I ate. The label said it had magical properties.

But it was neither dream nor hallucination—they _were_ bodily there inside the tent. Both looked as if they had been taken in between classes with the way they were still clutching their school bags. They seemed twice as big and burly as the last time I saw them, but that was probably because I only had my bone-thin, nearly-starved self to compare them to.

Vince and Greg took in their surrounding with a mixture of wariness and bewilderment—and then they saw me. They peeked curiously at what probably looked like a small lump, curled up on the bed. I imagined them seeing me with unkempt hair, wrapped in sheets that looked as if they hadn’t been washed in weeks. I would think twice too, if I ever saw myself looking like that.

But it only took a few seconds for them to recognise me before they were rushing towards me in relief in the most undignified manner that no Slytherin in their proper mind would ever do. They all but lifted me from the bed, ignoring my weak croaks of protests, before crushing me in a fierce hug.

“You look like shit, boss,” Vince said.

“Yeah, like an even smaller runt than you were in first year,” added Greg. The gall!

That was when I snapped back into my old self. Seeing them had brought me back from the brink.

“Get off me you brutes!”

Those words had been the first that I remember uttering to another human being in a long time.

Their arrival had been nothing short of a miracle. They were able to coax me from my pathetic state with their usual way of letting me boss them around, sometimes deliberately blundering just to get a rise out of me. Who knew that it could do wonders to the spirit?

We finally became bold enough to set foot outside of the wards and explore our surroundings. The forest held abundant wild berries and edible roots and we found a shallow stream some way off. Eventually, we were able to establish a more wholesome routine than the one I used to have, and settled in to await word from Snape.

Pansy’s arrival was different.

We were forcefully awakened one cold autumn night when Pansy appeared, screaming in agony and pleading for mercy. She was lying curled in a foetal position on the floor when we found her. Her clothes were bloody and torn, and her arms were wrapped protectively around her head as if trying to block a blow.

It took hours before we were able to stop her from screaming and struggling against our offered help. When she sobered up enough to look around her and find friends instead of her attackers, she instantly collapsed into my arms in undeniable relief.

But I will never forget the frightened, unseeing eyes of my best friend that day, just before she recognised us. It was a look I have only seen once before in my life and hope never to see again. It was the same look I saw on Aunt Bella when she was suffering under the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus Curse.

A week after her arrival, I learned that the Death Eaters had taken over Hogwarts. They had progressed from recruiting children of Death Eaters to swell their ranks (a fate that Vince and Greg had the fortune to escape), to directly coercing students to join, starting from the Slytherin House.

Pansy was one of the few who had boldly defied them, thinking that the Death Eaters had killed me, along with Vince and Greg. She had suffered immensely for it. Amycus Carrow is a particularly nasty bastard when incensed, and she had been his, to keep or kill as he pleased, until Snape was able to spirit her away from his grasp.

By the time the Greengrass sisters appeared in our tent a year later, we all knew that the war had escalated immensely. It was the only reason Snape would ever send children from neutral families, purebloods who had the means and magic to protect their own, into hiding.

Astoria and Daphne arrived when we were all out, but they had been fortunate enough to be briefed by Snape as to where they were going and what to expect. When we returned to the cave, we were greeted by the two purebloods, cleaning our home dutifully, if somewhat nervously, as if they were trained house-elves.

The six of us have been living here together for years now. And although we’ve no way of knowing how the war is progressing, its horrors still constantly plague us. Greg and Vince still insists on alternately keeping watch night after night, afraid that Death Eaters will find them and force them into serving the Dark Lord. Pansy would sometimes wake from her dreams, screaming in fright, while Daphne and Astoria try their best to calm her.

We find solace in the fact that that I’ve not felt the burn of the Dark Mark in years, and that’s what keeps us going, that tiny sliver of hope. We have theories about it—that the side of Light is winning and the Death Eaters are forced into hiding, that Dumbledore was able to prevent the Dark Lord from using it, or (and this one I secretly hope is true) that I was freed from servitude by Father or Snape.

We keep hoping that Snape will show up one of these days. We trust our Head of House more than anyone, and we know that he will never go back on his promise. We all owe our loyalty—our _lives_ —to him. But we have not heard from him in almost three years.

There’s a niggling feeling at the back of my mind whenever I remember the Unbreakable Vow that he took. There is only one consequence of not keeping the Vow.

I dare not tell the others this.

I try to put the disturbing thought away. Right now, there are other things to think about. It’s an important day and everyone has been working hard trying to make it extra special.

As I near the cave, I hear excited squeals and triumphant laughter floating from across the glade. I sigh, realising that they are outside the wards again. I’ll berate them for being that loud later, but today is a special day, after all. It’s Astoria’s birthday, or as near as we could guess. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge them, just for today.

Sometime after Vince and Greg’s arrival, we drew a crude calendar along one side of the cave’s wall using soot and charcoal. When Pansy joined us, she told us that we were two days off the mark. We’d been using the calendar according to Pansy’s adjustments for a year, until the Greengrass sisters arrived and told her that the calendar was a day early. I usually leave them to argue over its accuracy, as it often leads to disturbing conversations about moon cycles and menstrual flow. I shudder at the thought.

“Draco! Draco, come look!”

Astoria’s voice rings clearly across the glade and I hurry over intending to shush her. I hitch my burden more securely in my arms and march towards where Astoria is circling something that Vince has on display. I stop short when I reached them.

“Look!” Astoria cries happily, flinging her arms around Vince’s neck while trying to jump up and down. “Vince caught a trout for my birthday!”

And indeed, it’s a pleasant surprise, as fresh fish is hard to come by. It is the hardest to catch, after all.

Three years ago, the Preservation Charm on the cupboard wore off, and one by one, the food supplies went bad. We lived excessively for a week, trying to eat as much as we could before the rest of the food perished. But eventually we had to face the fact that we needed to learn how to obtain our own food. Our stock of tinned goods was running low and would only last through several months even if we rationed it.

Surprisingly, it was Vince and Greg who stepped up and led us in foraging non-poisonous plants and hunting fresh meat. Their knowledge of all things edible is beyond amazing. They know which roots can be dug up and eaten, which berries are poisonous and which ones aren’t, and they even know how to create a simple snare trap for small animals.

I smile, remembering how the two hulking brutes, whom people usually refer to as sidekicks, became leaders in their own right. Let it never be said that Vince and Greg’s midnight kitchen raids in Hogwarts had been a useless pastime.

“Get inside the wards,” I tell them. “I’ll make a fire and we can cook it.”

The two happily shuffle inside, and as I duck into the cave’s opening, I take a deep breath and let my innate magic feel out the wards. I find comfort in the fact that I can still feel the slight tingling sensation, but no doubt it isn’t as strong as it used to be. I used to be able to feel the slight heaviness in the air around the cave’s opening that indicates the strength of the wards. These days, I have to concentrate twice as hard just to be able to feel it.

The charms on other magically enhanced objects in the tent have begun fading as well. The heater no longer produce as much heat, and the Cushioning Charm on the bed is all but gone. Thankfully the loo is still in working order. I often wonder what the others will do when the day that it finally gives out comes.

The golden coin Snape gave me now hangs on a string around my neck like a talisman. I touch it and wish, not for the first time, for Snape to come.

-:-

  
I don’t remember how I spent my first birthday here in the cave. The day doubtless just came and went; I can’t even remember what Vince, Greg and I did. The first few months after the two arrived was spent strengthening the protection around the area. We trust Snape’s magic on the entrance to hold, but we can’t stop anyone from snooping around the clearing outside.

There is a small Muggle village that can be seen from a few miles down the stream, and there was one incident when Greg was accidentally seen by a group of village children. They chased him through the forest, and in desperation, Greg sought the safety of the cave, inadvertently leading them to our home. When he ducked into the entrance, the Muggle children saw him disappear into thin air. They searched around the area for hours, but the Muggle-Repelling Charm kept them away. They have avoided the place since then. One Hollow’s Eve, the village children came over and began scaring each other. It was then that we learn about ‘The Ghost of the Running Man’ that haunts the caves. We couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

When my second birthday came around, Pansy was already with us. She was the one who insisted we celebrate every special occasion, even if we’re in the middle of nowhere. She said it was the only thing we could look forward to, besides Snape. She was right.

It became a tradition of sorts.

We would each save our favourite tinned food from the dwindling stock, and we could only eat it when our birthday came around. We usually chose fruit since they expire quicker than tinned meats because of their natural acidity, and we were only able to save a few.

Our present for Astoria today is a can of peaches we’ve been hiding from her. It’s her favourite and she thought we already ate the last can the previous Christmas. Everyone is having a good time. I look at their happy faces and I sometimes wonder whether they’ve already forgotten about the war. Is it better if they do? I sometimes think that I’m the only one who ever worries about our future.

“Brooding again?”

I raise my head and stop poking at the glowing coals I’ve been nursing at the heater to look at Pansy. She sidles next to me in front of the furnace.

“Look at them, Draco,” she says. “They’re happy. Happier than when we were living in fear at Hogwarts or even our homes. _We’re_ all happy.”

They’re all laughing at something Vince is animatedly describing. It looks as if he’s recounting his adventure with the trout, judging by the way he is flailing his arms around, as if trying to catch something slippery.

“We can’t live like this forever, Pans,” I say, shaking my head. “What will happen when all the food is gone? When the wards finally collapse? What will _you_ do when the loo gives out? We’ll have to return sooner or later and join proper society again.”

“But not today.” Pansy takes my hand and squeezes it. “Stop looking for a way back, Draco. If you find one, I’m not coming with you. You know that. I don’t want to return only to find Carrow on my doorstep.”

“I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on.”

“Would you rather find out by showing yourself there? You’re wanted by both sides, and you know they won’t hesitate to kill you.” She pats my cheek like she usually does when she disagrees with me but refuses to talk about it. Before standing up, she adds, “Sev will come for us when it’s time. You know he will.”

I gave her a small smile. Snape earned everyone’s unwavering loyalty when he sent us all here to safety, but I often wonder if we’re just deluding ourselves thinking that Snape has not forgotten about us.

I watch as Pansy goes to join the others, but she hasn’t taken two steps when a strong vibration resonates throughout the cave.  
 _  
The alarms!_ I’ve no doubt in my mind what it means. I look at Vince and Greg and they immediately scamper to get their hunting spears. Pansy grabs Astoria, dragging her to the corner of the tent to hide. They huddle together behind the far side of the bed with Daphne hovering protectively over them.

“Stay here,” I tell the three girls. “We’ll check the entrance.”

“I’m coming with you,” Daphne says, one of the wooden spears already in her hand, but I grab her arm to stop her.

“No. Stay here, Daph. Protect Tori,” I tell her with a firm voice. I know Daphne is headstrong, much like the way Pansy used to be. I want her to stay safe, so I add in a low voice, “You know Pansy can’t do it. They need you.”

“Draco?” asks Astoria anxiously from her hiding place. “That alarm was meant to warn for wizards, right?”

I nod.

Her eyes grow wide. “Is it Sev?” she asks in an almost reverent whisper. “It’s Sev, isn’t it? He’s finally come to get us!”

An excited commotion breaks out as Vince and Greg suddenly whoop in joy and forget all about the threat that caused the alarm to go off.

Pansy, however, begins to panic and screeches in fright. “What if it isn’t Sev? What if Death Eaters have finally found us?”

“We don’t know for sure,” I say, trying to calm everyone down even as my heart swells with hope, before plummeting to my stomach. I’m glad when my voice doesn’t tremble. “It might be Sev, but it’s better to be prepared in case it’s not him.”

The sound of the alarm increases threefold, snapping us all back to the present. We hear shouting from outside the cave and we all go still. That is not Snape’s voice.

“Douse the fire,” I whisper quickly.

Greg takes Astoria back behind the bed, instructing her to hide, while Pansy and Daphne scramble to extinguish the fire before retreating back to where Astoria is. Vince stands by me, makeshift weapon in hand, watching for any signs of movement outside. Then a strong blast shakes the entire cave, followed by shouts of orders being given to secure the area.

I grip a stout club in my hands. I would give anything to have my wand right now.

“Vince, Greg, stand beside the flaps and take down anyone one who comes through,” I tell them. “Try and get their wands, if you can.”

Not a moment after I give the word, the first wizard comes through. Greg and Vince tackle the intruder and I dive for the man’s wand. I yank it from his hand, and for a brief moment, I feel awe at being able to hold a wand again, even if it isn’t my own Hawthorn wand.

A sharp yelp brings me back and I shoot a Stunner on the struggling wizard. My wand movements are clumsy, but it has the desired effect. I grip the unfamiliar wand tighter.

Another cloaked man comes through, and this time my spell is more precise. The man falls and Greg takes his wand as well.

Suddenly, there are ripping sounds as Slicing Spells cut through the tent, revealing five more men. Someone lights a powerful _Lumos_ and we become momentarily blind, no longer used to magically conjured light.

The girls scream in fear as hooded men approach them from one side. I move to block their path but a Binding Spell suddenly hits me and I fall to the ground. On the other side of the room, I see Greg go down as well.

I hear one of the hooded men shout for Patronuses and reinforcements, before I belatedly realise whom these men might be. They are all garbed in black hooded cloaks, but wear no Death Eater masks.

I can’t believe that Aurors, or more likely Order of the Phoenix members, were able to find Snape’s secret sanctuary.

There’s still a slight buzz in my head from the fall. I could hear them trying to calmly tell the girls not to be afraid, but the girls keep screaming. Suddenly one wraps an arm around Pansy to haul her forcibly from behind the bed. Her cries become shriller and she thrashes wildly about, while Daphne and Astoria try to hang on to her.

“No!”

“Don’t touch her!”

“Please don’t, Amycus!”

“Calm down, miss.”

“Get your hands off her!”

“I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!”

I watch in horror as Pansy’s eyes glaze over in terror. She cries the name of her former captor and pleads for mercy over and over.

“Vince!” I call to him for help, even as he wrestles with two of the hooded men. “Get Pansy!”

At the sound of his name, Vince snaps his head to me, and then around again to look at Pansy and sees her struggling with one of the Order members. He gives a mighty heave, causing the two men to fall to the ground, before barrelling towards Pansy’s captor. But before he can even reach them, the thin red light of a Stunner streaks through the air, hitting him directly on the chest. He falls with a loud thud.

“Fuck, Vince!” I shout.

I struggle with my bonds but it’s no use. I can see Patronuses being conjured and flitting away even as more people arrive.

“Stop!” I scream desperately as a group of men cluster around me. “Don’t hurt them! It’s me you want. I’m the only one with the Mark here. I’ll tell you everything I know, just please don’t hurt them!”

This is it. Our worst fears have finally arrived. I desperately hope that Order members are far less cruel than the Death Eaters, but one can never be too certain. I see of Mad-Eye Moody at the back of my mind, but I remind myself that that was Barty in disguise.

Then I begin to hear them murmur, softly at first but quickly increasing in alarm. There are now twice as many cloaked men standing around us. The whispers increase and I see the cluster surrounding me part from behind.

Then, like a beacon of hope, I see Harry Potter step out. He looks years older than how I remember him.

“Malfoy, is that you?” he asks as he warily moves towards me.

I watch as Potter immediately bends down to release my Full Body-Bind as soon as he recognises me. I sit up as quick as I can and grab Potter’s wrist. I know I have but few precious moments to save the others.

“Potter!”I exclaim in relief. Surely as a former classmate, Potter wouldn’t kill us on sight, would he? “Please, you have to tell them to let the others go. I’ll surrender without struggle. I’ll tell you everything I know. It might not be much—we haven’t had news of anything for a while—but I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t hurt them—”

“Malfoy—”

“Please, I’ll tell you everything I know about the Dark Lord. Just let them go—”

“Malfoy,” Potter says, this time grabbing my shoulder and shaking me a bit. “What are you saying? The war ended three years ago.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few hours becomes a flurry of activities as Aurors and Ministry officials arrive to take us in. The Missing Slytherins, they dub us. Healers and Mediwizards arrive, scanning our bodies and forcing potions down our throats, before pronouncing us healthy but underfed. More Ministry officials and even Unspeakables arrive, taking everything they can find and practically destroying our home. Then they hand us Portkeys that will take us to the Ministry.

For the second time in my life, I am wrenched away from the life I know.

The Atrium is already swarming with reporters trying to get an interview with us when we arrive at the Ministry, and Aurors close ranks to shield us from the aggressive journalists. Potter himself to wraps an arm around my shoulders and ducks my head to shield me from the flashes of photographers and from their incessant questions. I hear them all the same.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Is it true that Severus Snape kidnapped you so he could take you to the Dark Lord himself?”

“Rumours say that you lived as Animagi for years, what is your reaction to this?”

“Mr Malfoy, how do you feel about being the Lord Malfoy now?”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to the reporter who asked the question.

“What did you say?” I try to ask, but my voice comes out barely a whisper.

Before anyone could respond, Potter forcefully drags me inside one of the empty lifts and hits the button for level two.

“Wait!” I cry as the doors begin to close. “What about the others?”

“You’ll all be brought to DMLE for debriefing,” Potter says, releasing his death grip on my arm. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“Potter...” I begin cautiously, “what they said about my parents…”

He exhales loudly. “They will tell you everything at the debriefing, but it’s best if you learn from someone you know, even if it’s me,” Potter says. “They died a year after you disappeared. From what I heard, Lucius was trying to get Narcissa out of the Manor, but they were discovered. They were killed on the spot.”

I clench my fist. “Did... did they suffer much?”

Potter places a hand on my shoulder. “They died at Voldemort’s hands. You know how it goes.”

I close my eyes and count to ten. It won’t do to break down right now. There will be time to grieve later when all this is over.

“Snape, too,” Potter says quietly.

“When?”

“Three years ago, just before the war ended.”

So that’s why. The objects in the tent losing their charms, the wards slowly fading—it all began three years ago. And all that time we were there, waiting for him.

I feel faint. I now know how it feels to have the world crash and shatter around me.

The lift opens up to the second floor and I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and follow Potter out. I stagger a bit, and if Potter notices, he doesn’t let on.

We head to a large conference room where the others are waiting for us. I am the last to arrive and the others are already seated around the table with the Minister of Magic and the Head Auror. Potter leads me to one of the chairs before moving to stand by the door, along with the other Aurors who are standing guard.

Our families have already been notified, I hear Kingsley Shacklebolt say. Not that it applies to me. He says they are also trying to contact the  
Headmistress of Hogwarts to see if they will allow us to return to school to finish our education. I tune him out. I instead watch as the distrustful eyes of Gawain Robards rake over my exposed arm.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen one before,” I say bluntly, not caring if I was interrupting the Minister’s little speech about living in a new Voldemort-free world.

The room falls silent and everyone turns their head to look at us.

Robards clears his throat before replying, “No, I just haven’t seen one in a while.”

“You must excuse us,” Shacklebolt interrupts us before I could say anything else. “We have important matters to discuss. Gawain?”

The Minister and the Head Auror rise and walk out the door, their heads bowing together in whispered conversation. The rest of the Aurors follow them. I see Potter glance at me before he, too, follows them out of the room.

I laugh bitterly. Of course. They aren’t here for our protection. There are no longer Death Eaters outside of Azkaban, save for me. No, those guards were for the Minister.

Pansy immediately comes to my side the moment they are gone.

“I’m so sorry about your parents, darling,” she says as she envelopes me in a fierce hug. “You can come home with me, you know. You’ll always be welcome there.”

Daphne hugs me from behind, silently offering her condolences. “Greg’s mum already offered to take Vince, but you’re both welcome to come home with me and Tori if you want.”

The Minister told them earlier that the Greengrasses and the Parkinsons both survived the war, but not without a price. While the Greengrasses were able to walk away with much of their wealth, both families lost their standing in pureblood circles. Greg’s father died in the war but at least he still has his mum. Vince and I are now both orphans, yet surprisingly, it is the loss of my godfather that pains me the most.

I feel betrayed, waiting for him all those years. But how could I feel betrayed, when the man died to save our lives?

There is a sudden commotion outside the room and we hear voices rise in heated argument. Potter’s voice is one of them. When the shouting finally subsides, the door opens to reveal Potter and Robards, both with grim expressions on their faces.

“I’m not the one telling them that,” Potter says, crossing his arms and shooting a baleful look at his superior.

Robards looks ready to hex his rebellious subordinate. He lets out an irritated grunt before turning to face us. “All of you may return to your families now,” he says. “They’re already waiting for you outside.” I feel Pansy take my hand, ready to take me home by force if I refuse. But Robards isn’t done. He adds, “Except for you, Mr Malfoy. You are to remain here until further investigation has been made.”

The room explodes in outrage.

“You can’t do that to him!” Pansy cries.

“It’s not fair!” Astoria shouts. “He didn’t do anything!”

Robards holds a palm up to silence them. “There’s nothing we can do, it’s standard procedure. Mr Malfoy is a marked Death Eater, after all. But I’m sure we’ll be able to clear this up in a few days as long as he is proven guiltless of any transgressions.”

The shouts redouble, this time with Vince and Greg joining in protest. I remain silent in my seat. I expected far worse than this, knowing the Head Auror would happily throw me to Azkaban with the rest of my kind.

“How can you be calm about this?” Daphne all but shakes me. “They’re just looking for an excuse to send you to prison!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them.” They all halt mid-protest as they look at Potter in both astonishment and distrust. “He’ll stay with me in the meantime, at least until they allow him to go home.”

“It’s settled, then,” Robards says quickly, taking advantage of the shocked silence. He leaves the room before anyone could protest, the sneaky bastard.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” I tell Potter as I realise what the shouting outside earlier was about.

“They would’ve put you in a holding cell.”

“Oh,” I say. “Thank you, then.”

“I’ll just leave you to say your goodbyes.” He nods to the others before exiting the room to give us privacy. I wish he hadn’t. I hate goodbyes.

They are all reluctant to leave me, but I assure them with false enthusiasm that we’ll be seeing each other at Hogwarts, if not sooner. Greg and Vince leave first, and Pansy follows after a tear-filled farewell. Daphne had to pry her away from me when she refused to let go.

Astoria is the last to say goodbye. “When this is done, consider coming home with us,” she says as she comes up to me.

“I can’t,” I reply. “I need to return to the Manor. I’ve no more family left.”

Astoria shakes her head fiercely. “We’re a family, Draco. Vince, Greg, Pans, Daph, you and me.” She reaches inside her blouse and pulls out a broken jobberknoll feather attached to a string around her neck. “We’re all a family now.” She gives me one last hug before joining Daphne, who has been waiting for her by the door.

She’s right of course. We’re a family now, even if I still have to go to Potter’s home, and possibly live there for the remainder of the summer until school begins. They’re my only family now.

I look down at my hands. The war is over and it’s been more than five years, but my hands are still cold.

-:-

  
Potter takes me to Grimmauld Place straight away. It’s the last place I expect to see. He tells me that Sirius Black left it to him a few years ago, but as I am the rightful Black heir, it should belong to me. There is an owl from Hogwarts waiting for me when we arrive. I wonder how they knew I’d be here.

When I didn’t make any move to take it, Potter takes the letter from the bird and offers it a treat before sending it away.

“Don’t you want to read it?” Potter asks.

“Too tired,” I say. “Maybe later.” Maybe never. I can already guess what’s inside. I have no energy to deal with it right now.

“Right,” Potter says. “I’ll show you your room.”

The Black family home is surprisingly less gloomy than the last time I’d seen it. There are no decapitated heads, at least. Potter leads me to my room, right across from his, and then takes me to a bathroom down the hall. Potter goes in first to fill the bath. I hear him tell the mirror to ‘be nice’ before stepping back out.

“I started the water for the bath. I’ll send Kreacher to get you some towels and a change of clothes,” Potter says. “They might not fit you properly, but I bet you can’t wait to get out of those rags, yeah? Must be hard living like a Squib for years. I’ll go see what we can do about that.”

With a light pat on my shoulder, Potter ambles away, not noticing my disbelief.

I’ve never thought about that. None of us have. Sure there were times when I missed having my wand, but the thought of us living like Squibs had never crossed our minds. We still had our magic and we weren’t helpless, even if we didn’t have our wands. In fact, the more obstacles we faced, the more resourceful we became.

And my clothes! I frown at the thin grey cloth, and pick at the loose threads on my sleeves. Sure it’s a bit frayed at the ends, but it’s otherwise in good condition except for one small hole at the armpit. It’s actually my best set of robes. We were about to celebrate Astoria’s birthday when they found us, so naturally we were all wearing our best sets. Surely it isn’t that bad, at least not enough for _Potter_ , of all people, to call it a rag.

I step inside the bathroom, still bewildered, and the mirror greets me kindly.

“Oh hello, dear,” the mirror says. “Don’t you worry, Harry will put you to rights. Especially that hair of yours! I’ll tell him to take you to that nice place where he gets his hair cut. It’s a good place and he usually looks nice after, only he hardly ever goes.”

I tune the mirror out while it continues to complain about Potter’s lack of style and sense. I pluck at my limp hair. I thought I was able to keep it short and tidy, actually. Pansy had been good with the blade.

I take a deep breath and begin to strip. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real bath. The stream near our old home was good for scrubbing dirt away, but Snape never thought to stock the tent with soap or shampoo.

When I slowly lower myself onto the warm water, all I feel is heaven. I close my eyes and slide lower into the water until it reaches my chin. My mind begins to drift and I think about the last time I ever saw Potter.

  
 _“Haven’t I told you before to stop stalking me?”_  
 _  
“I wasn’t_ stalking _you,” Potter says defensively. “I actually came to talk to you.”_  
 _  
“Oh?” I arch one eyebrow in amusement._  
 _  
“Um, yeah,” Potter replies._  
 _  
Potter reaches into the pocket of his robes and I still for a moment, thinking he’s going to pull his wand out and hex me. Instead, he keeps his hand inside, and becomes lost in thought while he fiddles with whatever he’s hiding in there._  
 _  
“So?” I ask after the long silence._  
 _  
“Huh?” Potter looks up in surprise and flushes in embarrassment. I think I just caught him daydreaming._  
 _  
“So what is it you wanted to talk about?” I say, barely suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. My mouth twitches nonetheless._  
 _  
“Oh yeah. Um, right.”_  
 _  
While others would no doubt think that Potter’s stammering is comically endearing, it has absolutely no effect on me. I already know where this is heading, and I’m getting impatient._  
 _  
“Well?” I prompt him again. I’m not about to do this for him. I already made the first move._  
 _  
“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the other day. I had a nice time,” Potter says. His words tumble out of his mouth, as if saying it fast will cover his embarrassment. “And, um, I wouldn’t mind doing it again—if you want to of course. Not that I’m asking you out or anything. I just wanted to return the favour, and maybe you might want to—”_  
 _  
“Potter,” I cut him off, “you’re babbling.”_  
 _  
“Oh,” Potter grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”_  
 _  
I stop myself from quirking a small smile. Okay, so Potter_ is _a bit adorable when babbling, but he doesn’t need to know about that._  
 _  
“Oh, and I wanted to return this to you.”_  
 _  
Potter begins to pull out whatever it is he’s been hiding in his pocket. But before I can see what it is, a sharp knock on the door interrupts us, and Snape enters without preamble. A grim expression is on his face._  
 _  
“Mr Malfoy, I need a moment with you,” says Snape._  
 _  
I turn back to Potter and say, “We’ll talk later.”_

-:-

  
Dinner that night is awkward. The food is delicious, but it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten a real meal. My stomach keeps protesting. I want to gobble everything up, but my deeply ingrained pureblood upbringing keeps me from eating more than what’s polite.

Potter tells me about what happened during the war while we eat, especially about the other Slytherins who remained at Hogwarts. Some suffered the way Pansy had, while others were more than willing to join the ranks of Death Eaters. It’s more than enough to put me off my food.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he suddenly says. “And all this time you were in the woodland just east of Godric’s Hollow.”

I look at him and see barely concealed emotion in his bright green eyes. He tries to reach for my hand across the table, but I jerk away. I don’t know what he’s trying to pull.

I excuse myself and retire quickly to my room. I feel the fatigue from the long day creep up to me and I prepare for bed.

When I settle into the bed, however, I can’t find a comfortable spot. It’s too soft and entirely too comfortable. I’m too used to sleeping on the hard floor now, with my back against a cold wall. I gather the sheets and a pillow from the bed and drag them over to the unlit stone fireplace in the corner of the room. Spreading the blankets beside one wall, I curl on the floor with my back against the cold stone. I sigh contentedly as I begin to drift to sleep. I dream of Father, Mother and Snape as I clutch my cold hands against my chest.

-:-

  
“So how do you want to do this?”

“This...?”

“You know, this.”

A sigh. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Actually, it does. Why else would you be here?”

I’m sitting at a secluded corner of the Three Broomsticks where I was instructed by the DMLE to meet Potter. As I expected from the Ministry, the progress of my case is slow going. No doubt they’ll try to keep me for as long as they can until they find a way to send me to Azkaban. They placed me on probation and I was required by the Ministry to attend Hogwarts while an Auror checks in on me every month. Naturally, Potter volunteered for the job.

“Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to come see you?” Potter says, grinning. When I don’t say anything, he sighs in defeat.

We must look awkward sitting here, one too old to be wearing a Hogwarts uniform, the other too young to be called a seasoned Auror, though his uniform says otherwise. The people living in Hogsmeade are no strangers to peculiar people and bizarre events, but even the sight of Harry Potter having a butterbeer with the new Lord Malfoy can turn heads. I fidget under their scrutiny, no longer used to being around a lot of people. I wish I had thought to bring Pansy or Daphne along.

“Why don’t we just talk, okay?” Potter tries again. “How was your first week in Hogwarts?”

“Except for all the looks we’re getting? Not too exciting,” I say. “Headmistress assigned me my Seventh-year NEWT classes along with some of the Sixth-year courses I didn’t finish. The same goes for Vince and Greg, although theirs are lighter since they didn’t disappear until three months after. Daphne only needed to take the NEWTS, but she insisted that she retake everything with Pansy. Astoria is doing her fifth year.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” Potter says. “At least you wouldn’t have to repeat everything from sixth year. How about dorm assignments?”

“They were all assigned to the Seventh-year dorms,” I say. “Headmistress said it would be good to push them to interact with other people, and not just with each other.”

“They?” Potter asks perceptively. I had hoped he’d let it slip.

“They gave me a room near the Headmistress’ office,” I answer softly. “They said it was for protection. They didn’t say whose.”

Potter curses under his breath. “What about the Mind Healers? Have you gone to the meetings?”

I snort. The Ministry assigned Mind Healers to talk to us every week. They are supposed to help us transition back into normal society, one that is free of Voldemort. I think it’s too much. They should just give us time to adjust.

“Potter,” I say. “What’s the point in all this? You’ll probably throw me to Azkaban in a few weeks anyway.” I ask only to deflect him from his question—I don’t want him to know I'm not meeting with them.

Potter shakes his head. “I told you before, I won’t let that happen.”

“I’m a marked Death Eater,” I say. “It’s where I belong.”

“I don’t believe that,” Potter says. “You know I don’t.”

“Whatever, Potter.” I start to get up. “Is the interrogation over? I really need to get back.”

Potter grabs my wrist and pulls me back down to my seat unceremoniously. “I told you this isn’t an interrogation.”

His tone is firm, but I look at him and see only pleading eyes.

“Alright,” I finally relent. “One more pint.”

-:-

  
“It’s getting worse,” I say in agitation. “The girls are miserable that nobody wants to talk to them, even when they try to make friends. I don’t understand. They were the prettiest girls in Hogwarts back then, now everyone is sneering down at them, including our housemates. And Vince and Greg won’t tell me anything, but I suspect they’re being bullied in the dorms. For all their huge build, they’re extremely sensitive. And I’m not even there to protect them.”

I groan and let my head fall on the table with a thunk. Potter has begun to visit me at Hogwarts every other weekend. Of the five times we’ve met, only two were official Ministry visits.

“How about you?” Potter asks. “How are you coping?”

“I hate the towers,” I mutter through the wood against my face. I don’t want to admit it, but after five years of living inside a cave, I’ve grown to fear bright lights, and wide-open spaces. The breath taking view from the tower is absolutely terrifying. I want to go back to the Slytherin dungeons, where it’s dark, dank and comforting.

“It can’t be all that bad,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” I ask defiantly. I raise my head to take a big gulp of butterbeer. “Did you know Vince and Greg are more at ease holding hunting spears than their own wands?”

“Sounds awfully like Lord of the Flies,” Potter mutters, cringing.

“Lord who?” I ask. “Anyway, Daph is being a pain, acting like she’s everyone’s mum. Tori still acts like child. She’s already nineteen, for Merlin’s sake! Their parents will be marrying them both off as soon as they finish school.”

It didn’t seem that bad when we were still on our own. I actually used to like the way Daphne fussed over us. And Astoria had been the baby sister I never had.

“And Pansy,” I add quietly. “She’s afraid of all the men in school, even the professors and the scrawny first years. She can only bear to be near Vince, Greg and me.”

I stare miserably at my drink, hating the fact that Madam Rosmerta refuses to give me something stronger. A student is a student, she says, no matter what age.

“All of us who went through the war, we all grew up too fast,” Potter says, his voice equally quiet. “But you never did. You’re all still living with Voldemort’s ghost. It took us some time to recover from that. You will too, one day.”

“I tried to protect them,” I tell him. I want him to understand. “I tried to keep them safe.”

“I know,” he says. “We all did what we had to do.”

-:-

  
“So,” Potter says as we walk down Hogsmeade, a thin layer of snow covering the ground. “How did it go?”

I grin. “They brewed a perfect batch of Amortentia and now all the girls worship the ground they walk on.”

Potter smiles back.

“And,” I continue, “Vince and Greg have taken to helping Sprout. Can you believe it? They discovered they like mucking around in dirt, and now she’s taken them under her wing. I swear she’s turning them both into Hufflepuffs.”

“Forgot to bring your gloves?” Potter says gesturing to my hands. I didn’t realise I’ve been rubbing them together to keep them warm.

I look up to see Potter staring at me oddly. There’s that look on his face again, like he’s waiting for me to understand, like he’s willing me to get it. I don’t.

I tuck my hands into the pockets of my coat and walk faster, ignoring Potter’s shout to wait for him.

-:-

  
“Headmistress said I’d find you here.”

It’s two days after Christmas and I’m sitting on a stone bench in the snow-covered courtyard, oblivious to the cold. I know it’s him and I don’t look up. I’m too busy casting _Incendio_ on two Howlers that look nearly about to burst. The edge catches fire, but it fizzles out almost instantly. I try again.

“Here,” Potter says. He uses a different spell and with a single flick of his wand, the Howlers burst into flames, black ashes falling on the snow.

“Thanks,” I say quietly. He returns his wand inside his sleeve and tucks his hands inside his coat’s pockets.

“Who were they from?”

“Daphne and Pansy,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I told them the Ministry allowed me to leave Hogwarts for the hols. I kind of hinted that I’d go so they would go home to their families. They found out I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?” Potter asks. “Spending Christmas in Hogwarts could be quite lonely, I remember.”

I look away before answering. “Ministry said I’m only allowed to stay with you. Again.” How could he not know? He’s practically my parole officer.

Potter’s brow furrows. Apparently he doesn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come sooner.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Oh,” Potter says, visibly deflating.

I let out a deep breath. “What I meant was I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Oh,” Potter says again, this time brightening a bit. “You’re never a bother, Draco.”

We lapse into silence. He began calling me by my first name some time ago, using it as frequently as possible to get a reaction, or perhaps to get me to reciprocate. I never do.

“I brought you a present,” he says after a while.

Potter takes out a small brightly wrapped package from his pocket and carefully enlarges it before handing it to me. I look at it curiously and Potter urges me to open it. When I pull the ribbon, it reveals a very familiar set of grey fur trimmed winter gloves. I know if I look inside, I will see my name stitched on the inner lining.

“This is...” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

  
 _I walk leisurely through Hogsmeade, aware that he’s been following me since I left Hogwarts. I deliberately stay outdoors even when the freezing wind begins to pick up. I’m about to turn a corner when I realise that he isn’t making a move to leave his previous hiding position. I double back to the small alley between Gladrags and Scrivenshaft’s._  
 _  
“There you are,” I say. “I thought you'd lost me.”_  
 _  
I stare at Harry Potter, who is crouching in the filthy alley, furiously trying to blow warm breath into his bare hands and using a huge skip to shield himself from a gust of wind. His only protection against the wind is a thin cloak and his Gryffindor scarf._  
 _  
“B-bugger off, M-malfoy,” Potter says, his teeth chattering._  
 _  
“You really should stop this stalking nonsense,” I say with a smirk. “You have no talent for it.”_  
 _  
“I wasn’t s-stalking y-you.” Potter glares daggers at me, but a sudden sneeze ruins the effect._  
 _  
I roll my eyes in amusement. I take a step closer and haul Potter up to his feet. “Come along, Potter,” I say. “It won’t do you any good if anyone finds you looking so pathetic.”_  
 _  
“Why are you d-doing this?” Potter asks distrustfully._  
 _  
“Do you want to_ die _from hypothermia?” I easily avoid the question with a question of my own._  
 _  
We begin to walk and I stay on his right side to try and shield him from the wind, even though it’s probably useless. He follows me when I round the next corner._  
 _  
“Come on, we’re getting hot chocolates so you can warm up.” I gesture to a small building at the end of the road._  
 _  
Potter jerks to a stop. “That’s M-madam Pudifoot’s.”_  
 _  
I arch an eyebrow and ask, “Do you know anywhere else we could get hot chocolate that’s just as good?”_  
 _  
I ignore Potter’s further protest by pulling on the fingers of my left glove one by one and sliding it off easily. I did the same with the right glove before handing both to an open-mouthed Potter. I tuck my now bare hands inside my coat pockets and watch as Potter pulls my gloves on without hesitation._  
 _  
“Next time, be more prepared before you go stalking people,” I say amusedly._  
 _  
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter says, a small smile playing on his lips. “And thanks,” he adds more softly._  


“I was supposed to return them that day when Snape came and took you away.”

“I remember,” I say softly. The image of Potter waiting for me to return to the abandoned classroom came to me unbidden.

“I was also going to ask you to go to Hogsmeade with me.”

I don’t say anything. I already knew that.

“Come home with me,” I hear Potter say softly. He holds both my wrists and takes my hands from the pocket of my winter coat. I belatedly realise that his hands, too, are bare. “We already missed Christmas, but we could spend the New Year together.”

I savour the familiar feel of his hands on mine. I remember wrapping my own warm hands around his as he cupped a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. This time, it’s the other way around as he tries to warm my hands with his.

“Please say yes,” Potter whispers. Our faces are so close that I can see his breath mixing with my own. “I already lost you once. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

I stare at our twined hands and then look up to meet Potter’s gaze. There’s that look in his eyes again. And I finally get it.

The war is over, and I’m feeling brave.

“Alright,” I whisper back.

The gloves lay forgotten on the bench beside us. For the first time in years, my hands no longer feel cold.


End file.
